


The Day After

by lovelure



Series: Three Times Steve Yawned [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelure/pseuds/lovelure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an evening spent not watching a DVD, Steve and Danny are back at work with Kono and Chin. Will they be able to keep their nascent relationship under wraps? Seriously? Do you even have to ask? A sequel to Three Times Steve Yawned, though this is written so it ucan be read as a standalone as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 9:30 a.m. Well, that would explain a lot...

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I wasn't really planning on writing this, either. However, once the plot bunnies for the next day started to line up, it seemed like it would be an interesting story to write. So here we are. In the meantime, I'm still working on my chapter fics - they're just a lot more work than fluff like this. Enjoy!

Chin grabbed the file he was reviewing, walked across the hall and knocked on the door to Kono's office, waving through the glass for her to join him in Ops.

"What's up?" she asked, making her way out to the smart table.

"I was just writing up the Keahi case, and thought you should take a look at this," he replied.

"The double homicide from a couple of weeks back?"

"That's the one," he said. "Here. What do you make of this?"

Chin pulled up several documents he'd been reviewing, giving her a brief summary of each item as he swept them onto the main view screens: crime scene photos, phone logs, the medical examiner's report, the ballistics report, and the culprit's rap sheet. He stood back to give her time to process the information.

As she slowly walked around the room, reviewing each of the items on the view screens, Danny exited his office, nodded to them, and made his way into Steve's office.

Danny shut the door, sat down on one of Steve's armchairs and began speaking. Chin could see Danny's arms waving animatedly out of the corner of his eye.

Kono eventually paused on the last screen and then returned to the ME's report. "The shooter's height is inconsistent with the angle of entry," she concluded. "Plus it looks like there might be a gap in the timeline based on the TOD and the call log."

Chin nodded. "Exactly."

"So you think we got the wrong guy?" she asked, turning her head to see if she could catch a glimpse of Steve behind Danny's back.

"I think it's worth double-checking," Chin concurred. "Good eye, Kono."

"Thanks," Kono said, distractedly eying Steve. "Hey, cuz? Does the boss look chipper to you today?"

"Chipper?" Chin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah. You know, almost like…"

Chin glanced into Steve's office where their commanding officer sat, apparently studiously taking notes as Danny spoke. As Steve put his pen down and looked up, Chin was surprised to momentarily spy what could be interpreted as a furtively suppressed smile from the usually stern-faced ex-SEAL. "Hmm. I see what you mean. Think McGarrett got lucky last night?"

"I thought Catherine was out of town this week. Did Steve say anything to you about a date?"

Chin shook his head. "I don't think so. In fact, wasn't he arguing with Danny about DVDs last night when we left? I thought they were gonna do a boys' night."

Looking into the office as Danny continued to gesticulate at Steve, a blindingly bright virtual light bulb went off in both their heads at that moment.

Kono gasped. "You don't think..."

"Well, that would explain a lot. Like why this is already the third time Danny's been in McGarrett's office this morning, even though we don't have any open cases, and it's only — " Chin glanced at his watch "— 9:30 a.m."

"Hmm," Kono murmured in acknowledgement.

Kono and Chin both turned and stared unabashedly into Steve's office until Danny looked over his shoulder and caught them. They quickly turned back to the view screens and pretended to talk about the Keahi case, while Danny turned back to face Steve. They could hear the muffled sound of Danny's agitated voice, rising, followed by Steve's indecipherable, monosyllabic replies. Kono stole a quick glance and saw Danny stalking out of Steve's office and back into his own, by itself not an uncommon occurrence at Five-0 headquarters.

However, today, Kono kept an eye on Steve as she waited for Danny to complete the short trek across the common space and back into his office.

After the doors to both offices had closed again, Kono added, smiling, "It would also explain why Steve looks like he's checking out Danny's butt every time he leaves. Not that I blame him." She waggled her eyebrows for good measure.

"Kono!" Chin exclaimed in mock indignation.

"Like _you've_ never looked," she teased.

"Let's go pull the rest of the files to get this case re-opened," Chin said, laughing quietly.


	2. Two Hours Earlier, 7:30 am - Coco Puffs

Danny had had several women partners while working for the Newark PD. After his training officer, Rick Peterson had been taken off duty under first suspicion of illegal activity, Danny had briefly been assigned to work with Sharon Livingston, his senior officer on patrol. Sharon was a grizzled veteran in her fifties, and their relationship had very much been mentor to mentee.

After his miserable experience with Peterson, Sharon had done a lot in restoring his faith in the law enforcement establishment; in their few months together, she gave him a real appreciation for how police work could be both "by the book" _and_ successful. She was also a patient confidante who spent many an afternoon listening to Danny as he struggled to come to terms with the incessant demands from IA and the prosecuting attorney in Peterson's case.

"We may be the black and whites," she had told him, "but the choices we make in life aren't always so clearly defined."

When a still relatively naïve and judgmental Danny had stared back at her blankly, trying to figure out if she was actually condoning Peterson's actions, she had added, "Sometimes people do the wrong thing for the right reasons. You have to decide if this was one of those situations and whether it is or not, what Rick Peterson means to you. Once you've made up your mind about those two things, you'll _know_ what you should do."

After much soul searching, Danny had concluded that the main reason Peterson took the money and drugs was that he _could_ – Peterson believed, that as a highly commended officer, he was untouchable, and that he deserved more than just a steady paycheck and the promise of a pension to compensate him for putting his life on the line day in and day out.

At the time, Danny had dutifully nodded his head as Sharon spoke, but it wasn't until over a decade later that he really internalized what could qualify as a "right reason" or how anyone could ever mean enough to look the other way when wrongs were done.

But the day he saw Chin paralyzed by a collar bomb strapped around his neck, he understood. And when he, Kono and Chin had followed Steve to the state house to face the music, they'd all accepted their choices and the potential penalties. That afternoon as he waited in the governor's lobby, he had heard Sharon's voice echoing in his ear.

He heard it again just a few weeks later, when his brain finally slowed down enough to realize that Steve had sent the Feds on a wild goose chase on the far side of the island, giving him enough time to chase down his soon-to-be-fugitive brother, Matt.

Barely a couple of months after he'd been teamed up with Sharon, she was passed up for yet another promotion ( _Damned sexist bastards,_ thought Danny), and she had opted for early retirement. At her retirement party, she had pulled him aside as he went to bid his farewell. "You're way too smart for the beat, Small Fry," she had whispered, though not quite as quietly as she might have done previously. "You go show 'em what you got. And don't you be takin' your time about it. You hear me?"

Hailing from the Greenville section of Jersey City, with 25 years on the force, and standing 6'2", 180 pounds, Sharon could easily bench 150 on a bad day – and she had a personality to match. To the present, Danny still believed that one of Peterson's buddies had matched them up purely so he'd be plagued by the inescapable comparisons to Mutt and Jeff.

Faced with the unwavering force that was Sharon Livingston, Danny had eventually, reluctantly, resigned himself to being called "Small Fry" after she finally promised not to call him that within earshot of any colleagues – with the exception of that final meeting, when she's whispered just a tad louder than usual, to give him a little extra tweak to get his butt in gear.

Two weeks later, with Rachel adding her support, Danny passed his detective's exam. The officer in charge paired him up with Grace Tilwell, a seasoned detective whose youthful looks belied her ten years as an investigator.

For Danny, it was Grace who first set the standard for what a partner could be – tough, trustworthy, and willing to tackle cases as an equal, without ego, titles, or rank getting in the way. Soon, Grace and her fiancé were frequent dinner companions for Danny and Rachel, and were welcomed by Danny's parents as members of the already large, and ever-expanding Williams clan. After her death on the job, he had sleep-walked through work for months before his dad finally reminded him of the perils of the job and slapped some sense into him.

Later, just after his split with Rachel, Danny had been assigned to break in Anita Gonzalez. She was sassy and street-wise – and definitely his "type." Their mutual attraction was fairly obvious to them both from the get-go, and blatant flirtation had tinted their daily banter. They had toyed with the idea of pursuing a relationship, but had never been able to cross that line despite numerous close calls – not even after an undercover assignment had given them ample opportunity. But after a particularly nasty bust left him with three bullets in his vest, she had asked for a cross-town transfer, leaving him partnered with an equally jaded and bitter partner for his final, miserable months in Jersey.

Somehow he'd mustered the willpower to avoid getting involved with Anita, so how did a routine movie night (not unlike dozens of movie nights in recent memory) with his partner of two-plus years (his very _male_ partner, no less) end up in what could only be described as a make-out session that lasted until nearly 3:00 a.m. last night?

Danny was still trying to figure this out when he arrived home half an hour later. He collapsed on the couch but found he had a hard time sleeping. After an evening spent, pinned under Steve on _his_ couch, Danny's otherwise empty sofa felt hard, cavernous, and cold.

He had finally given up on trying to sleep, took a long, cold shower, and drove himself to Kapiolani Park. After watching the sunrise over Diamond Head, he dragged himself into the office, arriving shortly after 7:00 a.m.

Five-0 had no open cases, so he hoped the mindless busy work of routine reports and paperwork might keep him sufficiently occupied to avoid thinking about the previous evening.

Fifteen minutes later, Danny was still blankly staring at his laptop when Steve arrived, poked his head into Danny's office and cheerfully said, "Hey, Cuddles."

"Would you keep it down?" Danny whispered loudly.

"Would you just relax? No one else is here yet. It's just us."

"I don't care if it's 'just us' here, Steven."

Steve sat down on the edge of Danny's desk and grinned. "We're starting a little early with the 'Steven' bit, aren't we?"

"Don't smile at me," Danny admonished. " _You_ may be able to pretend like nothing happened last night and block it all out with your super-SEAL battle concentration training. I, however, am a mere mortal who is trying to keep his personal life separate from his work life." He held his hands far apart, for emphasis.

"How's that working out for you?" Steve asked.

"Don't ask."

"Don't you think it was a little late for that, even _before_ last night?" Steve paused for a moment before he added, "Besides, Chin and Kono have heard me call you everything from Chewbacca to Sugarplum, and everything in between. They wouldn't even blink an eye at Cuddles."

"I'm serious, Steve. We are on the job," Danny said. "We are partners. We are supposed to have a _professional_ relationship at work."

"Since when have we ever had a professional relationship? Anywhere?"

"Oh, that's just hilarious. Look, I know you and Cath figured out how to make things work while you were serving together, okay? But I've made it a point not to get involved with people I work with. Especially people I work _for_. _"_

"Danny, you're my partner."

"I know that. But you're also my boss. And you've made it clear that Five-0 is a benign dictatorship. And this," he waved his hands between the two of him, "this already has hot mess written all over it, even without you making a game out of it."

"Okay, I get it, man," Steve said. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Okay."

"And I'll try to behave, all right?"

"Behave?" Chin had just started to open the door to Danny's office and managed to catch the tail end of their conversation. "What's McGarrett done this time?" he asked, smiling at Danny, immediately recognizing the familiar pattern of banter.

Steve and Danny caught each other's eyes, wondering how much else he'd overheard.

Chin's question was an obvious one, but not one Danny had thought far enough out to anticipate. "Uh…"

Steve jumped in with the most recent iteration of this discussion that he could recall. "Danny thinks I don't share very well."

Chin turned to look at Steve, missing the glare that Danny shot behind his back. _Are you out of your mind, Steve? You're going to volunteer to talk about things that will inevitably lead to discussions about last night?_

"Well, he's got a point," Chin concurred.

"Not only that, Danny added, trying to deflect the discussion away from anything directly related to the previous evening, "this Neanderthal seems to think that _Child's Play_ is a good date night movie."

Chin turned to Danny, leaving Steve to stare bewilderedly at Danny. _And bringing up date nights is a better idea?_

Chin missed the silent exchange going on while his head was turned, and he didn't seem to notice Danny's non sequitur as he replied, "I can't remember the last horror movie I watched. Malia always preferred romantic comedies."

"Rachel, too," Danny volunteered, grateful that the conversation was naturally straying into safer territory.

"And Cath," added Steve. "Guess that's why they call them chick flicks, eh, bro?"

The mention of Malia cast a pall over the room, making Danny realize how inconsequential his own concerns were in the grand scheme of things.

"Hey, speaking of Malia, how're you doing anyways?" Danny asked, genuinely concerned.

"Some days are better than others," Chin admitted, looking down at the box he was carrying. Danny and Steve again caught each other's eyes, each feeling a pang of guilt for feeling the giddy high that comes with any new relationship, while Chin was still struggling to find closure after Malia's death.

"Anything we can do, man?" Steve asked.

"Nah, brah," said Chin. "It's getting better, day by day. Work keeps me busy. It's just the nights that are tough. You know, going home to an empty house, where everything reminds me of her."

Steve looked guiltily at Danny. _We gotta do something._ Danny looked down and Steve recognized his nod of consent.

"Well, you know, It's not often we have no open cases," Steve said to Chin. "You wanna catch dinner and a movie or something?"

"I'm a big boy, Steve," Chin replied, shaking his head. "You don't need to feel sorry for me."

"I'm not. It's been awhile since we've had a free night, and I hear the new Bond film's out," Steve said. "Danny, you got plans?"

Danny looked up and shook his head. _Was that question really necessary?_ "Who? Me? No, no plans. What makes you think I have plans? Do I _ever_ have plans?" Chin raised a curious eyebrow. "We, uh, should see if Kono wants to come along, too," Danny added. But then, recalling her eagle eye, her inquisitive nature, and her uncanny ability to read innuendo into everything, he immediately regretted making the suggestion.

"Good idea, Danny. So, we're set," Steve said, clapping his hands together to punctuate the decision.

"Really, guys, I'm fine," Chin said.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Danny said. "Don't make him beg." He tilted his head towards Steve. "It's not a pretty sight." As soon as the words left his mouth, an unwelcome vision of Steve begging flashed through his mind. Danny rolled his eyes. _Really? Now? Is this what it's going to be like all the time? Crap. I've gotta keep my mind out of the gutter._

Steve, who had welcomed a not dissimilar vision, winked at Danny, unseen by Chin who was pondering his response.

"All right," Chin agreed. "I hear the new Bond flick's pretty good, and it couldn't hurt to get out. You're on."

Steve and Danny smiled in agreement. Chin moved to make his way back to his office, but stopped in the doorway and held out the Liliha's box he was carrying. "I almost forgot. Who wants a coco puff?"

"No thanks, I already had breakfast," said Danny, who had opened his drawer and was studiously searching for a file he didn't need, hoping the others would get out of his office so he could regroup from his momentary distraction in peace.

Chin was still trying to remember if Danny had ever turned down a coco puff before when Steve reached his hand into the box, grabbed two and said, "I'll take his." He stuffed one in his mouth, turned his back to Chin, smiled gleefully at Danny, then held up the second coco puff in thanks as he made his way past Chin and back to his own office.

Chin shook his head bemusedly and turned to leave, waving to Danny behind his head on the way out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Anyone who's read my fics may eventually notice that I'm obsessed with digging up real-life and in-canon trivia, and trying to get it all to hang together. It's the same part of me that loves jigsaw puzzles, sudokus and crosswords (it's also a non-negligible reason why my updates take so long!).
> 
> So when I was trying to find a movie to send them to in the week after Halloween 2012, I was tickled to discover that that happened to be the week that Skyfall was released. And, my unfounded and plot-driven "sexist" comment notwithstanding, I was even more psyched to see that the current Newark Chief of Police happens to be an African –American woman!
> 
> On the flipside, though, I found an interesting conflict in timeline that the show backed itself into. I was just watching the Season 2 Rick Peterson episode on DVD and noticed they said that Peterson was Danny's training officer. Assuming Danny is the same age as Scott, he would have likely finished his studies around 200. That would be consistent with Rick being his training officer, and getting tossed in jail around summer 2001 (serving 10 years, and getting out of jail 7 months before the February 2012 episode). Yes, I am a geek.
> 
> This, however, creates a timeline dilemma when you look at the 9/11 episode this season (presumably conceived/written long after the Peterson episode had aired), which obviously had to take place in September 2001. A strict reading of the timeline would say that Danny and Grace Tilwell could only have been partners for a few months, which takes some of the punch out of the naming backstory for Danny's daughter (I would have pictured them as partners of several years, which would have made her death that much more significant).
> 
> But that brings us back to the Bellisario axiom – they'd already done the Peterson episode, they couldn't change the dates, and no one but an absolute nut case like me would notice or care. So, that being said, I compounded the timeline situation even more by cramming Sharon in between Rick and Grace. Yeah, she's a bit of a Mary Sue, but that was a point in Danny's life when he probably really needed a steadying influence, so I thought the hand-waving would be justified. Hope you agree.
> 
> P.S. Even though this story has obviously gone off-canon, I will be seriously annoyed if Matt's allusion to Danny having made "mistakes" is a reference to his having had an affair with a partner!
> 
> P.P.S. I loved the fact that Peterson called Danny, "D." It seems like he's just prone to being nicknamed by his partners, so it was only a matter of time before I could find a suitable one for Sharon. ;)


	3. 8:30 a.m. "Stuff"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the big gaps in posting. I finally finished watching all the Season 1 and 2 DVDs and have been reworking Home. But more coming on all fronts as soon as I can get it written. Thanks for reading and commenting.

After Chin and Steve left his office, Danny had put his head down and forced himself to focus on his paperwork. Just as he'd learned to devote 100% attention on the job, knowing it could mean the difference between life and death out in the field, he'd willed himself to direct that same focus to the seemingly bottomless stack of notes on closed cases that had been mocking him from the corner of his desk for nearly a month.

With more than a hint of satisfaction, he printed two hard copies of the report he was working on then hit the Enter button with a dramatic flourish and a resounding smack, submitting the final revisions.

Danny grabbed one of the printouts off the printer and stuffed it into his case folder before tucking it away in his file cabinet. He then pulled out a blank folder, scribbled a label onto it, neatly stacked the second copy and dropped it into the folder in his hands. He strolled across to Steve's office, and without waiting for acknowledgement, pushed open the door and began talking.

"And that, my friend, is what you call a prime example of effective police work," Danny announced triumphantly, tossing the folder on Steve's desk. It slid across the surface, stopping just short of the side of Steve's laptop.

Steve, who had been staring blankly at his laptop screen for the better part of the last hour, was able to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up, but his eyes still brightened when he looked up and saw Danny standing in front of his desk, with arms folded and a self-satisfied grin across his face. "What's this?" Steve asked, picking up the folder.

The subtle change in Steve's expression did not go unnoticed by the experienced detective who stood before him, yet who deliberately chose to ignore it. "The Manzetti case," Danny replied. "Read it and weep."

"You finished writing up the Manzetti case?"

"Only 'cause you pulled rank and stuck me with it."

Steve smiled. "I knew there was a reason I liked my job."

"Yeah, right," Danny replied. "And while I was slaving my butt off, what were you doing, huh, Clark Kent?"

"Oh, yeah," Steve mumbled. "I've been working on some…stuff."

"Stuff?" Danny asked incredulously. "What kind of _stuff_?"

"Case stuff," Steve replied, nonchalantly.

" _What_ case stuff?" Danny asked. "You had me working on the Manzetti case, Chin's stuck with the Keahi case, and Kono's dotting the I's on the Chan and Francis cases. What'd you leave for yourself, bud?"

He sat on the edge of Steve's desk and leaned over to pull the laptop closer for a first-hand look. With ninja-sharp reflexes, Steve reached an arm out to push the computer to the far side of the desk, snapping it shut in one fell motion. Hand brushed hand, putting an end to Danny's attempt at business as usual.

All at once, the images Danny had banished from his mind flooded back full-force. Danny remembered how hands bumping in popcorn had over the course of the evening evolved into Steve tracing circles with his thumb on Danny's hand and wrist, then cheekbones and jawline, while his mouth had freely explored Danny's face, neck, collarbone and lips.

Danny felt his ears turning crimson and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Suit yourself," he mumbled. "And, uh, you better get back to your, uh, case stuff." He steeled himself, turned, and walked back to his office without looking back.

Steve watched him leave and waited until the door shut on Danny's office before he pulled his laptop back towards him, opened it and waited for it to wake up.

While waiting for the screen to come back to life, Steve picked up the folder Danny had dropped on his desk and leafed through the contents. Danny had taken the lead on this case and he'd made sure their case was bullet proof. Every piece of evidence had been properly obtained, every warrant duly signed in a timely fashion, all searches and seizures by the book and above board. Steve chuckled, pitying the poor defense attorney who would be stuck with the job of poking holes in Danny's case.

Steve had to admit, he was surprised – and more than a little impressed – at Danny's productivity. After Danny's early-morning shushing he'd assumed Danny would be as distracted as Steve had uncharacteristically found himself. Damn, if it wasn't Danny who'd somehow found a way to block out the previous night and buckle down on work.

A soft tone chime sounded from the laptop, prompting Steve to set aside the finer details of the Manzetti case. Entering his password, he took a quick sip of coffee while waiting for his screen to reappear.

Steve peered surreptitiously through the blinds to make sure Danny and Chin were both still busy at work in their offices, then cast a quick glance down at his computer. The last image he'd been reviewing had finally redrawn itself on his screen. He glanced out his window – wishing he were out in the sun, swimming or hiking, or otherwise burning off an excess of nervous energy – and sighed resignedly.

His morning had started with good intentions. After chasing the creamy-sweet coco puffs with half a mug of coffee, he'd pulled out his computer with every intent of making headway on the Francis case. He knew Kono could handle it, but he still felt a pang of guilt sticking the rookie with double-duty on the paperwork front when there were no open cases to otherwise demand his attention.

He'd even managed to open his files and had his notes spread out across his desk when an email came in from a nameless underling in Governor Denning's office, reminding him that the latest report explaining Five-0's deadly use of force was already more than two weeks overdue.

_Crap_ , Steve thought. Times like these, he actually missed Pat Jameson. _Double crap,_ he thought, reflecting back on the last couple of days and realizing that there were probably at least two more reports Denning's office wasn't even aware they should be chasing down.

Once he'd opened his email, he found himself sucked in and buried knee-deep in a week's worth of unanswered correspondence when a new email arrived from Catherine's personal account. _Odd_ , Steve thought.

He double-clicked on the attachment and was surprised to find a photo that had obviously been taken the night after Halloween. It looked like Catherine had snapped it on her phone on her way out the front door, so he could only see the back of his own head; but her angle had given her a clear view of Danny comfortably curled up under his arm, and a contented Gracie, asleep with her arms wrapped around Danny's waist.

Steve clicked back on Catherine's email and read: _Finally in port with access to internet not being monitored by Big Brother. Thought you should see this. We should probably talk when I get back. - Cath_

_We should probably talk,_ Steve thought. That would have been a reasonable suggestion a week, or even two days, ago. But after last night, it was more like an imperative. _Damn_ , he thought.

Not wanting to think about what exactly he should or even could say to Catherine when the inevitable "talk" took place, Steve switched back to the photo and zoomed in on Danny and Grace. He had been trying to make out Danny's expression when the subject of his musing walked in, live and in the flesh, tossing the folder containing the Manzetti write-up just a mere few inches away.

Though he was pretty sure he'd managed to snap the lid shut on his laptop before Danny had a chance to see what was on his screen, it had been a close call.

Steve cursed himself for his carelessness – carelessness was a prime occupational hazard for SEALs, not to mention cops. Though taking risks was part and parcel of the job, he rarely, if ever, ever put himself at risk due to careless…or even worse, because he was outright daydreaming. Steve was not relishing the feeling of the unfamiliar regret that came from dropping his guard.

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

The first time they'd met, they'd both stubbornly held their ground in Steve's garage, waiting for the other to blink. When Steve tested Danny's resolve by putting him in a hammerlock, Danny had upped the ante with a right hook to the jaw. They'd quickly figured out they were evenly matched and as a team, more than effective.

By the end of their first case as partners, they'd learned to trust each other professionally, even if they weren't quite ready to be friends. Both shared a relentless pursuit of justice, had the skills to back each other up, and the personality to accept, stand up to – or perhaps merely endure – the other's quirks.

It didn't take long for Steve to realize that there was more to the bitter malcontent than his non-stop stream of wisecracks and bellyaching. From the odd pink bunny Danny so awkwardly gave away, to the possessive way he clung to "Danno," to the first time he sat on Steve's beach and admitted his fears about being a good father, Steve recognized the overt and unconditional love Danny had for Grace – as well as the complete absence of any similar relationship in his own experience.

Steve's earliest attempts to break down Danny's walls had been appreciated, but his motivations had been met with cautious skepticism. Danny's street smarts had him convinced that Steve McGarrett was used to getting what he wanted. And if that included taking over a taskforce he didn't want in order to catch his father's killer, or bribing his first choice for a partner – and, Danny felt confident, the most capable person on the island for the job, no less – with a tony hotel voucher and a just-as-promised swim with the dolphins, then so be it.

But when Steve went into action to make Kono's Five-0-only graduation ceremony a reality – sending Danny and Chin home for their dress blues and with marching orders to come up with something appropriate to say – Danny started to believe that there might actually be some sincerity behind the not-so-Machiavellian actions. By the time Steve intervened with Governor Jameson to get Rachel to drop her custody change request, Danny had thawed to Steve's overtures and had reluctantly begun to see himself as part of Steve's surrogate _ohana_.

Friday evening beers at Five-0 headquarters soon evolved to Saturday afternoon shave ice and Sunday morning hiking trips, interspersed with occasional scenic detours as Steve tried his best to introduce Danny to the island he knew and loved so well. Danny always had a ready excuse for why he didn't like the food, or the scenery, or the climate – or the company, for that matter – but it wasn't long before he stopped protesting and he went along with less and less coaxing.

The two weeks Danny had spent sleeping on Steve's couch had been among the longest and most grating weeks Steve could remember. Yet still, after Danny moved out, Steve felt his house was oddly quiet and empty – even with Danny letting himself in most mornings to pick him up for work, and stopping by more evenings than not to shoot the breeze.

Since his mother's disappearance, Steve didn't think he'd ever talked so much with anyone or to anyone – even with Danny's motor mouth frequently leaving him barely an opportunity to get a word in edgewise. Starting with military school, through Annapolis, and into the Navy, evening conversation had always been kept at bay by lights out and the sobering need for sleep to prepare for the next morning's duties. Even in the officers' barracks, privacy was rare; so sleep was ushered in to the white noise of snoring and the motor-hum from HVAC equipment, rather than late-night conversations.

Relationships were orderly and roles predictable. Steve followed orders, and his teams, in turn, followed his. Even off-duty, the unquestionable authority that came with rank colored discussions of politics, hobbies, and even women. Steve had found a second home in the Navy, but he had quickly tired of the macho braggadocio that followed him from the high school football field into the service. Listening to soldiers trying to one-up each other in marksmanship, missions accomplished, or romantic conquests held little interest – especially when so few were actually worthy competition for him in any of those fields of endeavor.

Steve had soon grown accustomed to spending quiet evenings alone, prepping for missions, or researching anything that might make him more effective in his job – bomb-making techniques, historical warfare, chemistry, makeshift substitutes for finger-print dust, signatures of known terrorists, or anything else he could get his hands on with his security clearance.

He finally met a kindred spirit when Catherine Rollins arrived on board. A capable officer who ably fended off unwanted advances, and fellow Navy legacy, she and Steve quickly found common ground talking shop and exchanging stories about their fathers and how they were destined to follow in their footsteps.

Things with Cath were always easy, comfortable. In many ways their relationship was the epitome of _un_ complicated – no expectations, no demands, no commitments. And despite numerous opportunities – from multiple Valentine's days to an inquisitional introduction to Doris McGarrett – neither had come close to declaring the three little words that routinely transformed casual romances into Serious Relationships.

From the start, their relationship had oft been architected by convenience. Although being trapped shipboard with thousands of undesirable romantic partners limited their alternatives, on the flip side, the times they were in the same port, or even on the same continent, could sometimes span months, or even years in between. So instead, they agreed to enjoy their times together, without any promises of exclusivity or even, necessarily a "next time."

But since Five-0 took over his life, Steve's seemingly bottomless need for under-the-radar favors had rapidly escalated, and along with it the frequency of payback dinners and Cath's social visits. With Catherine both on assignment and taking shore leave in Hawaii, their casual romance had started to feel more and more like an exclusive one, if only by default.

Steve had always pointedly resisted describing her as his "girlfriend" and recalled not quite truthfully telling Lori Weston that Catherine was "an old friend." He suspected Cath's own description of him would fall along the lines of "just a guy I have a thing with…" But despite the lack of expectations, or formal labels, over the years, there hadn't been much more than an occasional dalliance for either of them – an overheated flirtation, a warm embrace on a cold night, an alcohol-fueled hook-up. Certainly, Steve had found no one who could be a realistic threat to his tacit "friends with benefits" arrangement. So thankfully, they'd managed to avoid the drama of guilty confessions and post-liaison regret.

Yet somehow, something changed that night after Halloween. After his distracted attempt at sharing an intimate evening with Cath had been abruptly interrupted by Danny and Grace's unexpected arrival, Steve had spent the next several hours with his arm around Danny, feeling increasingly and unexplainably guilty. Guilty, like he was mentally and emotionally cheating, even though all that had happened was that he'd sat still while his best friend fell asleep on his shoulder.

Catherine had left on assignment early the next morning, and he knew the Enterprise would be going dark for at least part of their operation, so there hadn't been any time for discussion. Steve had been grateful for the time to work through his own disoriented feelings before having to discuss them with someone else.

Throughout the ensuing week, he'd waged an ongoing internal debate, with one side arguing that Halloween movie night had been the result of a one-time accident of timing, and the other side wondering increasingly insistently whether there might be more to it.

_Danny was asleep_ , Steve reminded himself. Yet, try as he might, though, Steve could not silence the voice that kept asking "what if?" In a way, making a move and testing the waters felt like the most obvious and natural thing he could do – as natural as Danny drawing a heart in the sky, teasingly complaining about their "marriage," or whispering conspiratorially, "You miss me, don't you?"

The devil-may-care side of him tried to convince him that he could just play it off as an extension of the banter they'd always shared. But the realist in him knew he couldn't. If he made a move – any move – it would be a game changer. Knowing his romantically insecure partner, there was no chance that this would be a one-shot grope session/hook-up, where they could then move on like nothing ever happened. Rather, the most likely response would be another right hook to the jaw, which would put everything at risk – their friendship, their partnership, Five-0, their _ohana_.

When Steve had broken into the HPD evidence locker, and trekked to North Korea with Jenna Kaye, he'd been aware of the potential consequences and had gone in with open eyes. But thinking about the potential consequences of exploring a different kind of relationship with Danny – not the least of which would be Danny freaking out and leaving Five-0 – Steve acknowledged that it would be insanity to pursue. So with great reluctance, he had convinced himself to forget about it.

Yet, after Danny announced that he was returning for another movie night, somehow, somewhere between the meat department and the produce aisle of the market at Aina Haina, Steve's never-in-a-million years "what if?" had reared its ugly head and resulted in his pushing his cart straight past the onions and onward to check-out.

Throughout dinner, his pragmatic side reminded him that he shouldn't let any unsated curiosity threaten what they had – the easy conversation, the deep-seated trust, the unspoken mutual understanding. But then seeing Danny sitting on the couch, in exactly the same position as he'd been a week before, Steve's resolve had gone out the door.

Now, rethinking the previous evening, Steve tilted his head sideways to look at the photo on his screen, again trying to decipher the expression on Danny's sleeping face. The sound of Kono's laughter caught his attention and he looked up to see her standing in Chin's doorway. Steve glanced across the way to see Danny back at his desk, surrounded by a more stacks of documents and staring intently at his own laptop screen.

Steve shook his head to try to clear it and closed the photo file – he knew Kono had eyes like an eagle and a nose like a bloodhound. She could sense wariness from a mile away.

There was still work to do. Plus, there was still the chance that Danny would freak out and tell him to go to hell.

_What the hell have I started?_

Steve sighed and turned his attention to the papers haphazardly strewn across his desk.


	4. 9:00 a.m. - Surf's Up

From his desk, Danny saw Kono enter Five-0's offices. Even from a distance, he could see the broad smile and exuberant demeanor that telegraphed a rare, case-free morning spent catching a few waves. Through the office walls, he could hear Kono's animated chatter and easy laughter as she poked her nose into Chin's office. He could easily imagine her describing the nuances of the morning surf as a paramour might recount his beloved's beauty.

He'd heard more than his share of Kono's surf stories as she'd taken him from a beach-bound beginner out onto his first waves. Not only was she able to get him out on the water without looking like a complete kook, but with a little bit of gentle persuasion – not to mention a threat of blackmail with photos of some of his less than stellar efforts – she even had him carving with a semblance of style on his better outings.

She'd also managed to make it virtually impossible for Danny to avoid noticing some of Steve's better features.

Sure, Danny knew that Steve was attractive – waitresses and beach bunnies were constantly winking at him, giggling like schoolgirls in his presence, and leaving their phone numbers everywhere from the myriad pockets on his cargo pants to the hood of his car. Then again, Danny also knew that most people considered Hawaii one of the most beautiful places on the planet. But neither the island's ubiquitous rainbows and waterfalls, nor Steve's well-toned body – despite being on public display on a seemingly near-daily basis – had initially made much of an impression on him.

But just as Steve, Chin, and Kono had chipped away at his blanket dismissal of Hawaii's landscape and he'd mentally filed a few favorite spots under "breathtaking," with more than a little prodding from Kono, he had eventually found it impossible to avoid appreciating his partner's physique as well.

It all started one afternoon when Kono took him surfing. Danny was just starting to get comfortable on rougher waters, and Steve and Chin had stopped by to join them. They'd spent an afternoon enjoying the sun, waves, and beers and were looking forward to a lunch of take-out loco moco.

Chin had lost the straw-draw and been sent to retrieve their order from Rainbow. While he was gone, Steve took a few more runs, while Kono expanded her tutelage. All along, she had been reviewing Danny's technique in between runs, pointing out surfers demonstrating particularly good and bad form, and giving him pointers to try on the next run. But spying a couple of particularly hot guys walk by, she began to sprinkle her surfing tips with an ongoing color commentary on the men on the beach, delineating the posers from da kine.

Of all the things Danny had considered doing with Kono, man-watching somehow had never made it onto the list, never mind to the top of the list. But as she persisted in intermingling her surfing lesson with verbal ogling, Danny had little choice but to take note of Steve's pecs, body art, six-pack abs, and, last but definitely not least, the carved V starting above his hips and disappearing just behind the knot in his board shorts. "You see that, bro? Not another one on the beach comes close," Kono had said, whistling appreciatively.

"Can we get back to the surfing, please?" Danny had asked, as Kono laughed good-naturedly at his obvious discomfort.

"Be my guest," Kono smiled invitingly, gesturing out toward the open water. Danny hesitated briefly at the tallest waves he'd yet to face, but given a choice between listening to more of Kono's exposition on Steve's physique and hitting the waves, he decided the water would be safer.

Unbeknownst to Danny, as he paddled away from shore, Chin returned with the loco moco. "Those waves are getting pretty heavy, cuz," he said. "How'd you manage to get Danny out there?"

Kono beamed back. "I have my ways."

Steve, having just finished a run, stood on the shore watching Danny make his way back in, rewarding the distinctly pale, but still-upright neophyte with an enthusiastic high-five when he finally sloshed onto solid ground again.

It was this particular afternoon that Danny was recalling when he saw Steve leave his office to join Kono in Chin's doorway, inviting her to join them for a dinner-and Bond-night.

Even through the partially tilted slats of the blinds in his window, he could catch Steve occasionally glancing his way. And even in those brief glimpses, he recognized the same look he'd seen after Catherine's first shore leave. Steve was hiding the grin of a cat that swallowed the canary.

After watching Steve return to his office, Danny counted to 200, hoping that that was long enough to divert suspicion, and then tossed his pen on his desk before marching across the common space to follow him.

Danny pushed the door open and stood behind one of the chairs at Steve's desk, arms crossed, waiting for Steve to look up from his laptop.

Steve's first instinct was to kid Danny about not being able to stay away, but fear of a skittish Danny flying into a panic was still fresh in his mind, so he took an extra moment before replying.

"Don't you ever knock?" Steve asked in a monotone, without looking up.

"Since when do I knock?" Danny asked. "You're obviously not on the phone. So, why would I knock? You have some invisible person in here I'm interrupting?" Danny turned to the other empty chair and asked, "Hello, invisible person. Excuse me for interrupting."

"What do you want?" Steve finally asked, looking up. He tried to sound irritated, but somehow, it came out more like a seductive offer. And despite his best efforts, he still wasn't quite able to suppress a smile.

"See? You're doing it again," Danny said, throwing his arms up in the air.

"Doing what?" Steve asked.

"Smiling!" Danny replied, raising his voice. Then regaining his composure, he lowered his voice and added, "Would you please just stop smiling? You know those two." He nodded his head towards the hallway. "Kono is relentless and Chin is just too damn good at being a cop. They'll detect something out of the ordinary faster than you can take a shower. This is insane."

"Danny, would you just stop worrying?"

"Stop worrying? I am always worrying. If I stop worrying then they'll know for sure something's up," Danny replied, adding, "And just so you know, by the way, this is all your fault."

"My fault? How is this my fault?" Steve asked, anticipating the most obvious answer.

"Look around you!" Danny urgently waved at the walls of Steve's office. "This is completely your fault."

Steve frowned, as this was definitely did not appear to be the complaint he was anticipating. "Come again?"

"These walls!" Danny made a gesture universally interpretable as "duh!"

Steve replied with a bewildered look that shouted, What the hell are you talking about?

"You and your stupid, stupid, stupid walls," Danny exclaimed, parking his hands on his hips.

"My what?" Steve asked, wrinkling his nose and still not making the leap from the expected answer to the architecture of Five-0's offices.

"You were the one who insisted on glass walls." Danny made his best attempt at doing a McGarrett imitation: "'It'll be better for team-building and communications,' you said. Now we're like sitting ducks in a fishbowl."

"Danny, you're imagining things," Steve replied calmly, finally understanding Danny's concern. "We've been in these offices for more than two years, and it's never bothered you before."

"Are you really as dense as you sound right now?" Danny asked incredulously.

"Enlighten me," Steve replied, knowing full well Danny's beef, but hoping to get some insight into his current state of mind.

"In case you have forgotten – though by that smile on your face, I suspect you haven't – last night wasn't exactly a typical night," Danny began; Steve tried – with limited success – not to smile. Danny pointed an accusing finger at him and continued, "Look, I'm really glad that you were able to get a good night's rest, take your three-minute Navy shower, throw on a change of clothes and come to work under this microscope like it's business as usual."

Steve mentally calculated that he could probably count on one hand the minutes of sleep he had gotten. It was only the endorphin rush from a two-mile swim that gave him the energy to face the office in the morning.

"Can't stop thinking about me, huh?" Steve teased reflexively, smiling the cocky smile of a guy who was used to getting the girl without even trying.

Hell no. It was all Danny could do to avoid thinking about him. Danny's lips still felt the residual rawness from the evening's action, and he was glad the pink haze had faded. But he wasn't about to give Steve the satisfaction of knowing that he'd gotten close to no sleep, and had resorted to an early morning walk in Diamond Head to get himself together enough to make it into the office.

"Yes – I can't stop thinking of you…and the many different ways that I am going make you pay and suffer for making this day a living hell."

Steve couldn't resist the opening he'd been given. "Is that a promise?" he asked with a sly grin, this time making no doubt about the innuendo in his tone.

Danny replied with his best attempt at a death glare.

Oops, too soon, Steve thought.

"Can you please just stop with the smiling?" Danny asked. "I'm asking you nicely. I'm saying 'please' even?"

Sensing that Danny was serious, Steve stopped teasing. "Listen to me, Danny. We have a quiet day in the office. Let's just enjoy the fact that, for once, it's unlikely I will get you shot."

"What is this? Do I sense a conscience? Maybe even concern?"

"No, not concern. Gratitude."

"Gratitude?" Danny replied in surprise.

"Yes, gratitude," Steve confirmed. "Do you have any idea how grateful I am that I won't have to listen to you whine for the ten thousandth time about how it's my fault you almost got shot."

"That's because it always is your fault when I almost get shot."

"Not today," Steve replied.

"So great. Instead, we're stuck in this godforsaken office all day with Kono and Chin," Danny complained.

"We spend every day with Kono and Chin," Steve said. "And you'd rather be out in the field, working some crime scene with Kono right now?"

"Good point," Danny admitted. He hated when Steve was right.

"So, you want to take on some of those 'excessive use of force' write-ups?" Steve asked, trying to give Danny an excuse to change the subject.

"Seriously?"

"Hey, you're the one who finished the Manzetti case."

"You're such a jerk," Danny replied, holding his hand out. Steve placed a stack of notes into Danny's outstretched hand.

Danny turned to make his way back to his office. On his way out, he stopped in the doorway, turning just enough to make himself heard, but not enough to make eye contact. "And by the way," he said over his shoulder, "yes, that's a promise." Danny smiled smugly to himself as he let the door close behind him. He didn't need to see Steve's face to know that it bore a stunned, slightly gape-mouthed look.

Steve pointedly shifted his chair so his face was well hidden behind his laptop since this time there really was no chance he was going to be able to hide the grin that swept his face from ear to ear.


End file.
